


The Boy with the Fancy Words

by SereneFreakGeek



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Slight out of character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 13:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12277752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SereneFreakGeek/pseuds/SereneFreakGeek
Summary: It all started one late December evening... Harry began receiving love letters from a secret admirer, and things became all turned around. The letters intrigued him, and he wanted to know so much more, but he was also distracted by a certain blond ex-bully at the Slytherin table. What unfolds?[Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy(slightly out of character) AU]





	The Boy with the Fancy Words

The letters began on a random December evening while Harry had been studying in the Hogwart’s library. There was a pecking on the window near him, and confused, Harry had turned to see what it was. An owl, one Harry didn’t exactly recognize, was pecking insistently on the glass. Harry slowly stood and glanced around the room, not spying the librarian anywhere in sight. He turned his attention back to the bird and jumped toward the window the moment he saw the animal fall from his sight. The owl was able to fly back up toward the window, pecking even faster. Harry quickly unlatched the window and opened it to let in the smallest snow owl he had ever seen. It seemed exhausted, though dropped a letter on the table and moved to rest. Harry glanced over the letter, though was surprised when in perfect cursive it spelled out his own name.

Harry picked it up slowly, looking at the envelope before opening it, sitting back at his own desk. He had left the window open for when the small owl was done resting to fly away, but it instead hopped across to Harry’s own table, settling down on top of Harry’s book. He shrugged, turning his attention to the writing in front of him.

 

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I’m sorry I won’t sign my name. I’ll say that now, so you’re not too surprised at the end of this letter. I feel as if signing my name will warrant an immediate burning of this letter, or the like, and that’s not what I want. I wanted a clean slate, I want a chance to get to know you, and you me, so that I may know once and for all if we could have been friends in another universe. We are so unlike each other, yet I can’t help but constantly point out similarities in my head. If only things had been different. _

_ I will start this by naming off some things about myself, though not too much since I wish to remain anonymous. I am in fact your age and in your own grade. And we don’t exactly speak regularly, otherwise, why would I have sent this letter. I have a fascination with you, though doesn’t everyone, and I can’t explain why. Sometimes I kid myself into different reasons but they are all pointless. I feel as if I was able to find out more about you, I would be able to push this stupid fantasy aside of becoming your friend, or something more. I doubt you are even attracted to men. _

_ So, I guess that’ll be my first question. What is your sexuality? If that’s not too forward for you, then our messages should go along smoothly. I’ll answer one question with each reply to my letter, so long as you do. Nothing too obvious, I’m not going to answer my name, for example. Perhaps, a hint. A question that’ll lend a hint to who I am, if you want that. If you even reply. _

_ I know that this seems very suspicious, though I’m not asking for anything to use against you in any way. The war is over after all. I realize you may still have enemies, though just know I am not one… I honestly can think of no way to prove it to you through a letter. _

_ I guess you’ll just have to throw out a bit of random trust? _

_ -Anonymous _

 

Harry read through the letter again, confused. If he had an inkling that this was from some  _ fan _ of his that thought he was someone more important than he really was, he would’ve immediately tossed it aside or burned it. But the letter, for some reason, intrigued him. He searched his brain wondering who this could be. It was obviously a male, he had been pretty blunt in that way. Harry thought over the letter, wondering if he should respond to this lovesick man that he was indeed gay, even though he hadn’t come out of the closet to most of his own friends even. He had no clue who this guy was, why should he trust him? Harry had more sense than that, right?

Harry immediately picked up his quill, glancing up toward the tiny owl resting quietly in between the pages of his tome, and he couldn’t help but think the tiny bird reminded him a bit of Hedwig. This one is much younger than when Harry had been gifted with his own owl though. Harry shook his head, turning his attention to the empty parchment in front of him, and considered once again if this was a good idea. Though, he began writing.

Harry signed his name at the bottom, waved his wand over the writing so the ink dried immediately, and began folding the letter. He nudged the small owl awake, smiling softly as the owl jumped to attention, almost as if it was embarrassing that it had fallen asleep on the job. Harry handed the folded letter toward the owl, narrowing his eyes in question. “Do you know who to bring this back to?” He watched the small owl almost glare at Harry for questioning his ability, though nodded and took the parchment. Even folded the parchment was as big as the little bird. Immediately, the bird began flapping their wings, lifting off of the table before gliding out of the open window. Harry stood, moving and sliding the window shut, locking it back in place.

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

Draco cursed himself loudly once more, pacing the floor of the common room. He heard a sigh from his left but he paid it no mind, instead glaring into the green fire on his right before running another hand through his hair. This was no good, why did he agree to do this?

“Draco, stop,” Pansy finally said with another dramatic sigh. Draco instead chose to shoot a glare her way before continuing his pacing. “It’s only been a day.” Pansy sounded exasperated with him, though Draco knew she was purposefully overreacting. That’s just how she operated. He also knew that she was trying to make him feel better. It’s only been a day.

“Exactly. It’s been a day. That means he’s seen my horrible letter and thought it was completely idiotic  _ like it was _ and he threw it to the side. Or even showed his friends. Or even someone that might recognize my handwriting! Pansy, why didn't you tell me to disguise my handwriting?” Draco was practically screeching toward the end of his rant, turning toward his best friend with sad eyes. She sighed once again with a pitying look, standing and making her way closer to Draco. She pulled him into a hug, and although he didn’t hug her back he hadn’t backed away either.

“Darling, it’ll be okay. It’s just Harry. If he didn’t like the letter he would’ve burned it or something.” Pansy reassured him, which didn’t help much.

“You’re supposed to be telling me that he loved the letter and is trying to think up a masterful reply, and that’s why he’s taking so long,” Draco mumbled, quietly though since her ear was right there. She laughed in response, pulling back and looking Draco over with a humourous pitying expression.

“I’m trying to be  _ real _ here, Draco.” She replied, though his name was covered with a loud swish of flames. A small owl shot out, rolling and stumbling into a stop as it bumped into the edge of a couch.

“Nestra!” Draco suddenly yelled out, diving for the small owl and scooping her up. Draco quickly glanced up toward Pansy with a worried expression, though ignored her eye rolling. “I hope she’s not hurt,” Draco admitted, glancing down with soft eyes toward the small bird in his hands. He was too full of worry to notice immediately that the small bird had a parchment clutched in her talons. It also took a moment to notice that it wasn’t Draco’s that he had sent her off with, but a new one. Slowly Draco stood, glancing warily toward Pansy who seemed to be standing stock still, and he took the parchment from Nestra and pocketed it. They remained silent for a moment, though Draco turned, walking down the hallway toward the dorms.

“Where are you going?” Pansy suddenly yelled out, frustrated.

“To let poor Nestra sleep!” Draco replied, continuing his walking as the tiny owl snuggled into his hands.

“What does the letter say?” She screeched, yelling so he could hear as he kept continuing down the hall.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with!” He called down quieter, though knowing his voice carried.

Draco opened the door to his room, slipping inside and closing it behind himself. He wandered over toward Nestra’s cage, a brilliantly large and furnished one that was made specifically for Nestra, and settled her inside. He smiled as she fell asleep, then moved to sit on his bed. He took a deep breath, reaching inside his robes and staring at the folded parchment. It wasn’t in an envelope, it didn’t have a name on it. Of course, it wouldn’t since Harry didn’t know who exactly he was sending it to. Draco took another deep breath to steady himself before he opened the letter.

 

_ Dear Mystery Man, _

_ I accept this rather strange challenge. I take it with glee knowing that I can earn a new friend. Though, with the way you wrote, I can’t help but wonder who you are. My curiousity is getting the better of me, though I’ll play your game and only ask for hints. I hope to find out who you are soon, though. Even if you had once been bad, or on the wrong side, doing this shows that you wish to move past that. That you wish to change. And that’s all I need to know to welcome you. _

 

Draco rolled his eyes, though couldn’t help the giant grin across his face. Of course, Harry would be so forgiving so quickly. Of course, it would be Harry to act like this. It was actually part of why Draco had fallen for him so hard recently.

 

_ Your question actually caught me off guard. I had realized recently my true sexuality, though I hadn’t come out of the closet just yet. I am, in fact, attracted to men. I do hope you don’t begin spewing this around before I have the chance to come out the way I see fit. Though, I bet you understand, considering you were once in my position, or still are. Either way, for some reason, I do trust you to keep this a secret. For me. _

 

Draco drew in a breath, tearing the letter away from his eyes and setting it on his nightstand. He suddenly felt his heart beating quicker in his chest and wrists, his eyes closed and a tight feeling formed in his stomach. What was this? Why was Draco reacting in this way to hearing about how Harry enjoys the company of men? It’s not like Draco would ever have a shot anyway.

Draco drew a few deep breaths, leaning back on his bed until he was able to calm himself down. Knowing this definitely made it harder to move on from Harry. A part of Draco wanted Harry to reply saying, ‘I’m straight, you’re gross, stopping talking to me,’ and have that be that. Then Draco would be able to get over him easily. Or, easier. But now it seemed Draco was falling even quicker and there were no handholds to stop him. Slowly, instead, he reached out and grasped the letter to pick up where he left off.

 

_ I have to admit, I’m not good with these kinds of things. I’m trying to sound elegant like you did, and I’m trying my hardest to write in a way that is legible. I have no clue if I’m succeeding or not, or if the next letter I receive will say, “Nevermind, you’re handwriting sucks and I realize now you’re a complete git.” I almost expect it, in a way. I hope it doesn’t happen. You’ve intrigued me beyond end. _

 

Draco laughed, shaking his head and letting his hand holding the letter to fall onto his chest. To an outsider, he may look like a lovesick student holding a love letter to his chest. But instead, he was a lovesick student holding a  _ regular _ letter to his chest. There’s a difference. He raised it again, glad that no outsider  _ was _ around to see the travesty that was his emotions.

 

_ My question, a rather big one I guess, is which house are you sorted into? It definitely narrows things down quite a bit, while not too much considering how many people are around. I hope you answer this question, though if you feel it’s too much then you can simply give a different hint. _

_ Write back soon. I know I won’t be able to stop thinking of my secret admirer. _

 

_ -Harry Potter _

_ P.S. What is this tiny owl’s name? She is utterly adorable. _

 

No. There was no way he was going to answer that question. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen. What would Harry think when he found out that the person writing to him was a Slytherin? Would he just stop responding? Would he reply back with a ‘Sorry, not interested.’ Draco shook his head. He was finally able to speak to Harry in some way, he wasn’t going to ruin this now.

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

Harry sat in the great hall, jamming a piece of biscuit into his mouth as he listened to Hermione rattle on about the ins and outs of something or another. To be completely honest, he wasn’t paying attention. He glared down at his breakfast bowl, his mind running a million miles an hour. Why was it taking so long to get a reply? Was the guy trying to decipher his horrid writing? Did the tiny owl even make it to the person or did it pass out from exhaustion halfway there?

Harry was shaken out of his stupor by Ron, who was looking at him with an urgent expression. Was something wrong?

“Harry! Were you even listening to me?” Hermione screeched out. Harry widened his eyes. Oh Merlin, something  _ was _ wrong.

“Of course Hermione! Why wouldn’t I!” Harry replied nervously before filling his mouth with more biscuit.

“Then what did I just say?” Harry pointed at his mouthful of breakfast and watched as Hermione rolled her eyes but waited for an answer. He discreetly glanced toward Ron, though noticed he was keeping his head down and didn’t look to be of any help. ‘ _ Bloody Gryffindor courage my ass. _ ’ Harry swallowed his food, grinning sheepishly toward Hermione.

“Harry, were you even listening to me,” Harry replied before ducking down to avoid retaliation from his friend. He widened his eyes, holding up his hands in surrender before digging back into his meal. He heard her scoff and turned his gaze away with it ending up on the Slytherin table. He immediately scanned it before his eyes landed on his target.

Draco Malfoy had been acting differently since school started back up. Obviously, since everything was different now. But Harry almost wished he would have gone back to normal with the snarky comments and outrageous attitude. It was better than a sulking numb expression he carried around constantly. Harry was worried for him though knew he couldn’t do anything. Draco would refuse anything Harry said in an instant, thinking it was some kind of prank or ruse.

Harry bit his lip, watching the boy run a hand through his hair. It didn’t help that Harry had recently found himself particularly attracted to the blond boy. Everything Draco ever did while Harry watched was beautiful, in his mind. The way the boy got sucked into his potions studies as if he was made for the work. The way Draco would speak to his friends elegantly, though with a cautious guard. The way his entire attention focused into one thing as if everything else in the world disappeared. And his eyes. Draco’s eyes are what did Harry in. The icy force of his gray eyes drew him in even though Harry knew he couldn’t look directly into them for too long without Draco noticing and getting suspicious. The last thing Harry needed was for Draco to realize his attraction for him. He quite enjoyed not being in pain and didn’t intend to change that anytime soon.

Harry’s breath hitched suddenly, noticing those very eyes glancing in his direction and meeting his. Their eyes locked for a moment, and though Harry knew he should’ve, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. He watched many emotions flicker through the boy before his emotional guard was put back up, his face blank once more.

“Harry!” He jumped, glancing toward the screeching sound of an annoyed Hermione, and flushed in embarrassment. “You’re still not paying attention!”

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I am a Slytherin. _

 

The first sentence caused Harry to smirk, though a relief flooded through him. So asking which house he had been in  _ wasn’t _ too much? He thought over the possibility of a Slytherin liking him. No wonder they didn’t want to reveal who they were. Their entire house still practically hated the man, it would be advantageous to like Harry. He considered the boys in the house, in his grade, and bit his lip. No, Draco would never like him in this way. His mind still pushed past the thought, thinking of Draco sitting at a desk, dipping his quill into ink before drawing beautiful cursive across the paper, spelling out words of love and adoration. He pictured Draco walking up to Harry, smiling and admitting he was the secret admirer, the boy with fancy words, the one whose heart he held. Harry knew his own response would be immediate and full of pleasure, of leaning down and pressing his lips against the beautiful pale ones of Draco’s and loving every moment of it.

Harry shook his head. No, this wasn’t fair to the writer. This wasn’t fair to the man baring his soul to Harry to accept him. Harry knew his fantasies, no matter how often he dreamed of them, would never come to fruition. But this was real, this was in front of him, and this could actually lead him to somewhere he wouldn’t mind being. He turned his attention back to the note, smiling softly.

 

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I am a Slytherin. I know this may come across as bad in your mind, part one of the prejudice you have against me, but just know that not everyone in Slytherin is evil. I know how people think, Slytherin is the evil, the dark house. Gryffindor is the light and good, the house that fights against it. But that’s not how it is. Slytherin is just a house of cunning folk, where Gryffindor is full of brave and helpful people. Though, perhaps if you still wish to view the black and white images of our houses, perhaps take into mind a sort of Romeo and Juliet situation? Though, hopefully with less death. We’ve had enough of that. _

 

Harry chuckled to himself with the muggle play referance, then sighed somberly, thinking back and giving a moment of silence for the dead. He knew exactly what that last sentence had meant.

 

_ I just want to say thank you for responding to my letter and giving me a chance. This reply was more than I could’ve ever hoped for. I have to admit, my hopes have gone up slightly even though I know they shouldn’t. Holding this letter in my hand is physical proof though. The words, the ink, it’s all blazed into my mind for eternity though I don’t need to remember it so much since I have the actual paper in hand. I must sound like a worshipping idiot, though I cannot help my feelings I suppose. I guess the physical proof is just touching to me. _

_ My next question for you will be, if a once enemy had approached you and apologized, laid their soul bare to you in hopes you could forgive them, would you be able to? If they truly meant it, sincerely, with every ounce of their being? Even if they had said and done such terrible things, would you be able to push past that knowing that the person sincerely meant their apology? Would you even go so far as to accept their proposal of friendship, however strained? _

_ In my mind, the Harry I can see, you would. And I don’t understand why. I guess I’m painting a picture of you in my mind that may not be a reality, which is the purpose of these letters. Perhaps to pull me back to reality, to know that such a perfect person does not exist. I want to know the real you. _

_ I don’t see you in the light that the media shows. I don’t see you in the light that your weird fan club tries to project. I see you as Harry. A messy haired boy with glasses that are never on straight and are always breaking. A proud Gryffindor with a penance for breaking the rules. A loving soul who would risk their own life to save countless others, no matter the price. _

_ I do apologize though. I want to make that clear now, since I know I’ll never have the courage that you do to say it in person. Even though you don’t know who I am, you can’t place the apology to the person, just know that everything I’ve said and done was either out of fear my own or my family’s safety, or I was just a giant prick. I own up to it all. _

_ Her name is Nestra. She is quite adorable, as you’ve said. She is very young, as you can tell, and I only recently got her. I’ve kept her hidden so far so that you wouldn’t place the owl with the person, I hope you don’t mind. I know once this business between us is over she’ll be happy to roam free when I have no need of her. She’s strongly spirited, she reminds me slightly of you with her determination. I hope you like her as much as I do. _

 

_ -Your Secret Love-Letter Writer _

 

Harry took a deep breath to attempt to settle his raging feelings, his heart cords singing. What does this all mean? Was the writer a past enemy of his? He couldn’t think of anyone, and he  _ refused _ to believe that Draco could be the one writing this. That was only hopeful thinking, it was only him not thinking straight. His mind kept drawing only toward him because of how he feels, because of how often he’s been trying to spot the blond in the hallways or in the great hall.

What if Draco had come to apologize to him? If he honestly,  _ sincerely _ meant it? Of course he would forgive Draco, he would do so in a heartbeat. He already had, in his mind. Everything that Draco did during the war had saved Harry, there’s no way he could hold any hard feelings toward the man. If not for him, Harry would be dead.

He glanced up toward his bedroom window, perched there the tiny little owl known now as Nestra. He smiled kindly, reaching to pet her tiny head before moving to his desk, withdrawing a parchment, quill, and ink. He tried his hardest to keep the blond from his thoughts as he wrote, instead picturing an unnamed Slytherin boy sitting at a desk, writing away at a fantastically worded love letter.

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

Draco stirred the cauldron absentmindedly, tracing the book on his right with his freehand. He nodded slowly, knowing the hard part was coming. He took a deep breath reaching for a special bottle of dragon saliva and uncorked it with the same hand. He placed it down, making sure to have a good hold and looked toward his cauldron determinedly. He slowly began to pour the liquid, stirring with his other hand still, knowing that if he pours it too quickly or if there was a break in the stream then the entire thing would be lost. Concentration. That’s what he needed right now. And with no one else in the room, the concentration was easy to maintain. There we go, half the bottle. Keep going now, that’s it-

A large crash in the corner of the room exploded, causing Draco to jump and drop the entire container into the cauldron as something hard hit him in the back of the head. He heard an entire shelf practically fall apart, and he turned around to see what had happened when behind him, his cauldron also explodes. Shards of metal from the cauldron and glass from the bottle explode, and a few imbed into Draco’s back. He screeches out in pain, squinting his eyes shut, almost afraid to open them lest something  _ else _ explodes.

Draco began to feel wetness coat his back and knew he needed to go to the nurse now. Like  _ now _ . He opens his eyes, glancing around for whatever caused the chain of events that led to this circumstance. And then his eyes land on the culprit, and he couldn’t help but let out a small whimper. Walking forward, he looked down at the poor, tiny owl and reached out, cupping the small thing. He brought her close to his chest, taking the parchment and stuffing it into his robes, looking her over. She seemed to have a broken wing, and the thought tore at Draco. How did she even get here? What had happened? Draco began to feel slightly woozy from loss of blood and quickly pulled the tiny bird against his chest as he hurried toward the infirmary.

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

_ Dear the boy with fancy words, _

_ I’ve said it once and I suspect I’ll say it again, being sorted into Slytherin isn’t a damnation, it isn’t the end-all. I know that anyone in Slytherin has the capability to be good and light just as much as anyone in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor has the capability to be evil and dark. Or even a combination, evil yet with light magic, good yet with dark magic. Every person is their own complicated self, and I can’t imagine judging you just from your house. So don’t fret for that reason. _

_ Your question astounds me, to be honest. You say your version of me is perfect, yet everything you named is what I would do. I would definitely forgive the person, I would definitely become friends with them. Everyone has done their fair share of bad things, but so long as they own up to it and apologize then people can start to move on. You say this is perfect, but I am far from that. The word is not meant for someone like me. _

_ I know I don’t know you, though I truly wish I did know who wrote such a beautiful script to me, I do forgive you. You are genuine in your words, I can tell. If only I could place the apology with a person, things could be different. I could say everything I write here in person. I could answer any question you have for me through my own lips and not through ink and a quill. But I respect your decision still, however much I yearn to know who you are. _

_ My next question may be rather strange. I’ve always had a private fascination with eye colour, so that is what I ask of you. I hope you don’t find it weird. I just love how the eyes can reflect any emotion your soul is feeling. The colours are so individual, each person’s are different. A warm amber brown, with flecks of gold inside. A roaring ocean blue, free yet powerful. A bright shimmering green like the sunlight dancing across a forest. I ask what your eye colour is, so I may picture you in my mind’s eye. _

_ And yes, I just adore Nestra. She’s very persistent. She had given Ron such a scare when she appeared at our window, knocking restlessly. He was a bit grumpy after that, but oh well, he can get over it. I do hope to meet her owner in person one day, though. _

 

_ -Harry Potter _

 

His signature was signed in his usual way, an odd comfort for Draco in an uncomfortable place. He had read the letter many times during his stay in the hospital, having a lot of free time since no one had come to visit in the week he stayed. The only person coming by was, of course, Madame Pomfrey to check on him, heal as she needed, and drop off his school assignments. His stay lasted longer than he expected, and it was only a few days before winter break before he was released. He had been thinking up his reply the entire time, unable to get the boy wonder off of his mind, and had immediately run to Hagrid’s hut to check on Nestra and make sure she was alright.

He slammed his hand on the large door, biting his thumb and hoping to not show too much emotion in front of the half giant he once tormented. He felt no ill will toward the man now, everything before being tainted by his father, but he knew Hagrid wouldn’t exactly feel keen to see Draco. The door swung open and Hagrid’s eyes landed on the blond. Draco shifted on his feet uncomfortably, mumbling out his reason for being there. Hagrid’s eyes immediately softened at Draco’s worry for the owl, and the lack of insults strung throughout his sentences. He was invited inside, and Draco immediately searched for Nestra.

“She’s over there, good as can be. I ‘eard you were in the hospital too. Glad to see you doin’ okay now, Malfoy. I’d say since you been released, go ahead and take Nestra too. She’s definitely a stubborn one, had been quick in her recovery.” Hagrid spoke cheerfully, sitting heavily in a chair and pouring himself some tea. Draco was elated, glancing down at the slightly larger than before owl, nuzzling her.

“Thank you so much for your help, Hagrid,” Draco admitted, turning and smiling toward the half-giant. The astonished look he received in reply almost made him snort, but he was able to just smile, nod, and walk away before he actually did. Draco tucked Nestra under his robe, smiling as she nuzzled against her owner as if saying in reply that she had missed him too.

“Harry, you’ve been acting weird lately.” Hermione’s voice drifted down the hall, and Draco groaned internally. No, he couldn’t handle this right now. He sped up his walk, pulling his robes tighter around Nestra. He needed out of there, especially so Harry wouldn’t spot the small animal.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” Even Harry’s voice sounded distressed, and Draco furrowed his brow. Was he okay? Draco turned a corner and spotted the two in question. His eyes quickly scanned the boy, slightly worried, though quickly relieved instead when he noticed nothing physically wrong with the boy. Draco tore his eyes away from the small frame, taking a deep breath and beginning down the hall the two were occupying.

“Like what? Why haven’t you told us, Harry? We’re getting worried.” Hermione replied, crossing her arms and glaring at Harry. Draco tried to move a bit faster, watching Hermione track him with her eyes for a bit before moving them back to Harry.

“It’s nothing. I just- I’m expecting a piece of mail that hasn’t arrived.” Harry mumbled, shrugging. Draco finally reached the part of the hallway that the two are standing in, making sure to walk as far away from them as possible. Nestra recognized the voice, though, and hoots loudly under his robe. He widens his eyes, walking faster.

“What was that?” Hermione asks behind Draco, just as he hears Harry call out, “Malfoy?”

Draco just attempts to walk faster, but Harry calls for him again and Draco begins to hear footsteps behind him. He sighs, knowing from experience that Harry will never give up the chase. He stops and whispers urgently to Nestra to keep quiet. “Malfoy?” Harry says for the third time, and Draco turns around slowly, eyeing the boy. He definitely looks tired, and though Draco feels worried he keeps his face clear of emotions.

“Potter.” He replied, knowing full well how weird he looked with his hands tucked under his robes. He spies Harry scan his chest in confusion before moving past it and speaking again.

“I haven’t seen you in classes or the great hall for like, a week. Are you okay?” Harry asked, starting to feel uncomfortable and crossing his arms.

‘ _ I would definitely forgive the person, _ ’ rang through his head, and Draco glanced away.

“I’m fine. Just had a potions accident. The cauldron exploded and shards had been lodged into my back.” Draco admitted, looking up to see a definitely worried expression on Harry. “I’m fine though. I was admitted to the infirmary for a week until Madame Pomfrey knew I was better for sure. She wouldn’t have let me go if she knew anything was still wrong.” He reassured Harry, staring into the emerald eyes of his.

“I’m glad you’re doing better then,” Harry mumbled, glancing toward the floor.

‘ _ I would definitely become friends with them, _ ’ rings through Draco’s head again, and he curses that he read that letter so much that he practically memorized it.

“Nice talk. See you, Potter.” Draco mumbled, turning and beginning his walk to his room once again, this time without Harry calling after him.

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I am sorry for my absence, it wasn’t intentional. Nestra had been badly hurt, she had broken her wing, and I couldn’t let her deliver anything. I considered another owl, but it just wouldn’t be the same. I suppose I might have hurt you with my silence, but I never meant it in that way. Hopefully if you receive this letter and choose to read it, you’ll understand what I mean. _

_ Winter break is fast approaching, and I’m scared for little Nestra to fly so far just to deliver these silly love letters. So instead, since you’re so adamant to know who I am, I suppose I’ll tell you just before winter break. That way we both have a week to think things over and calm down from the rush of emotions from the admission. Myself, from my nerves and anxieties of admitting who I am, and you for figuring out finally who exactly writes with ‘fancy’ words and ‘beautiful’ script. _

_ To answer your question, my eyes are not unique at all. I’m afraid to say I share my eyes with my father, a blue that could freeze any person in place. I’m not proud of my eyes, and I would hate for you to look at them and realize how ugly they truly are. I’m afraid to look you in the eyes as I pass you in the halls. I’m afraid to let you see the colour, to judge them and find them unworthy of you. I’m just afraid that you’ll see the emotions I hide from my face and become disgusted. I’m sorry for such an answer but I only write the truth. _

_ Your answer to my last question surprised me, once again. The kind heart that I knew you held welcomed me once more in that response and I can’t help but think that you don’t understand that most people just aren’t like you. That’s the beautiful part, that’s the ‘perfect’ part that I mentioned. No one else could forgive me, no one would be able to see past my mistakes. But you do. At least, until you figure out exactly who I am. I doubt anyone would be able to forgive me if they knew. _

_ My next question for you is why did you respond to the first letter? Why did you open it and not just toss it aside? Why did you read it and not just burn the words away? Why did you grace the silly paper with a response? I’m trying to wrap my head around why you would be so kind to do such a thing, but I can’t. You stole my breath away with your handwriting and admission, your admitting things and trusting that I would keep a promise to keep it a secret even though you didn’t know me. You’re so brave, I would have never been able to do what you did. But thank you, anyway. _

 

_ -The definitely not-brave, blue-eyed Slytherin boy _

 

Harry finished reading and he felt a wave of relief wash through him. A week and a day it had taken for the small owl to appear clutching a letter. Two seconds it had taken before it was open and Harry was reading through the words. He had been worried for the writer, wondering if something had happened to him. Scared that perhaps the writer realized how Harry wasn’t really anything good and didn’t like him anymore. Harry knew he would prefer just a simple letter back saying ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ instead of silence. It had been killing him, waiting for it. He had been eyeballing every Slytherin boy he had come across toward the end, wondering quietly to himself if any of them had been the one.

Finally seeing Nestra floating outside the library window had been like a dam of emotions breaking, and Harry had stumbled and fell and bumped his thigh trying to get to the reply. The words of previous letters had been keeping him up at night, the mystery of who it was burning his mind. He never thought he would grow so attached to someone he didn’t know. But he had, he knew it. This person who needed forgiveness so bad was buried into Harry’s chest, into his heart now, and he knew he couldn’t stop. He needed to know who it was.

Harry reached into his bag to withdraw the parchment, quill, and ink he had begun keeping on him at all times. He hoped he wouldn’t sound too desperate in his letter, but he also knew that he had to write what he was thinking and feeling before his world crumbled around him.

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

Thankfully, this time, when Nestra appeared she didn’t explode anything or cause anyone to get injured. She flew through the Slytherin common room fireplace as if she was born to, and perched on Draco’s shoulder easily. He smiled, nuzzling the owl as Pansy began speaking once more.

“Well fuck my story, you’re still getting love letters from-”

“Shh!” Draco said, glaring immediately toward the only other two in the common room, though both appear to be too busy with each other, neither noticing what Pansy had said. She just laughed in response, rolling her eyes. Draco reached up, taking the parchment and placing it in his robes. He knew he definitely wanted to read it now but also knew that he would have to wait a bit. Both for appearances, and also because Pansy would not forgive him for walking out during the middle of a story.

“Does he still not know it’s you?” Pansy asked, tilting her head. Draco glanced away, afraid for the fact that she hadn’t continued her story yet. He didn’t like the sudden attention to this small private part of his life.

“No, he doesn’t. But he will soon.” Draco whispered, glaring toward the other two students in the common room who still aren’t paying attention. He heard Pansy gasp, and he glanced back toward her face, one of confusion and surprise.

“You’re going to actually tell him? Who you are? That you are Draco Malfoy, the person writing those letters?” She asked, crushing his confidence slightly. Was he really going to do that? He enjoyed writing these letters back and forth, and he didn’t want to lose the small piece of Harry that he still had.

“He wants to know so badly, Pans,” Draco said, wincing slightly at his lovesick voice. He knew that he was selfish, but he would rather give Harry the world than keep this small piece of him for himself.

“This isn’t going to be good,” Pansy replied quietly, leaning back in her chair. A silence surrounded them for an uncomfortable minute before she sat up, going back into the vivid detail of how exactly Milicent and Dean ended up locked in a broom closet together.

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

_ Dear the boy who has stolen my heart, _

 

Draco sucked in a breath, shaking his head slowly. No, he read that wrong. He had to. There was no way these silly letters actually mean anything to him.

 

_ Dear the boy who has stolen my heart, _

_ I was worried when you didn’t respond. So worried. Your silence had taken a piece of me every day until finally I saw the little white Nestra and everything had felt in place again. It’s silly how attached I have grown to these letters, how completely enamored I am by your words. I don’t understand how this simple communication has drawn me in so much, but it has. _

_ To answer your question, the first letter I answered because I was curious. Curious as to where this would go, curious as to who you were, curious as to why you had sent me a letter instead of approaching me directly. I had answered your second letter because I was intrigued. I was liking you more and more with every word you wrote, I was finding myself wanting to know so much more. I answer your third letter now because I need to. I need to know who you are. I need you to know that I don’t blame you for anything, that I forgive you. I need to hear your voice, see your eyes for myself. I need to know that this isn’t just some silly fairy tale or play, but this is real even though it’s something I’ve yearned for. _

_ My question for you is against the rules, though desperate. Who are you? Who do the blue eyes belong to? Who wears the Slytherin scarf, walking through the halls avoiding my eyes? Who feeds Nestra, whispering to her that she could fly outside freely soon? Who had so many feelings trapped inside them that they had to let it out onto a paper because he felt like something bad would happen if he just came out and said it in person? Who is reading these words right now thinking that I won’t forgive him if I knew his name even though I already have? _

_ Answer me, please. _

 

_ -Harry Potter _

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

_ Dear Harry, _

_ By the time you read this, I should be on the train heading home for winter break. I hope you can forgive my cowardice for not wanting to see you after you read my name. I don’t want to pass you in the halls while the wound is so fresh, hearing you call for me and say that this was all some stupid plot, that this was the worst thing I could have done to you. I don’t want to look up and see such hatred in your eyes for putting you through all this just for it to be me. _

_ I’ll answer your question soon, but for now, one last question from me. Grace me with the one, that’s all I ask of you. _

 

_ Do you forgive me? _

 

_ -Draco Malfoy _

 

Harry glanced quickly toward the window, the form of Nestra fading away as if she knew she no longer had a purpose here. Harry then glanced quickly at his watch, hoping and praying that it wasn’t too late.

 

**_____     _____     _____     _____     _____**

 

Draco heard a tiny, recognizable hoot and glanced up to see Nestra happily flying toward him. Draco felt both nervousness from knowing the letter was delivered, and happiness that his owl would be able to ride the train with him.

“All aboard!” The sentence was called out, and Draco stood to the side waiting for Nestra to land on his shoulder before reaching for his portable cage, opening it and letting her crawl inside. He glanced around, biting his lip and looking for someone he could sit with inside the train. Perhaps he could find a solitary compartment? He definitely didn’t feel like talking to anyone, the nerves in his stomach eating him up. He admitted to Harry who he was. The letters were over, the small piece of Harry that Draco had received was now cut off. He was alone now, once again, though Draco somehow felt even worse.

He had originally sent the letters in hope that Harry would reply once and that was that. He had hoped Harry would say something along the lines of, ‘I like girls, I’m marrying Ginny Weasley, oh and I’m a huge asshole,’ so that Draco could finally move on with his life. But with no such luck, and a huge amount of a different sort of luck, Draco felt like he fell even deeper for Harry. What was he going to do now? Now that Harry knew exactly how he felt for him, now that they shared these private moments. Draco knew it would be awkward, and he was slightly scared for the rest of the year. Why hadn’t he waited until close to the end of the year when they would graduate and never have to see each other again? Why hadn’t he-

“Draco!” The call of his name, his  _ first _ name, in that voice had Draco frozen in place.

‘ _ No, it can’t be. _ ’

“Draco, please, wait!” Draco slowly turned, watching a rumpled Harry run across the grounds toward him. Draco hesitated, mind racing with possibilities. Was he going to get yelled at, rejected in front of so many people? Was his world about to crash around him while the wound was still so fresh? Harry was getting closer and closer, and Draco kept yelling at himself to run, get inside the train,  _ hide _ .

And then Harry made it to him. And Harry kept moving closer. And then Harry’s lips were on Draco’s, and Draco let out a surprised squeak before realizing exactly what is happening.  _ Harry’s lips were on Draco’s _ . Draco closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss and moaning slightly. He opened his mouth invitingly and felt Harry push it even farther, exploring each other in such a way that Draco had never let anyone else do before. He felt so exposed, but not because he was doing this in the open in front of the entire train. He felt exposed to Harry, cracking himself opening and explaining everything he had felt. Opening his mouth to Harry and letting him roam around inside. And it wasn’t a bad feeling.

They broke the kiss when both knew they needed to breathe. Draco felt light headed, but he was staring into Harry’s eyes and the world seemed to tilt even more. Harry’s arms were wrapping around his waist, pulling him in, keeping him from falling. His arms were his lifeline right now, the only thing keeping him upright and in place. They stared into each other’s eyes, and Harry whispered something so quiet it had taken Draco a moment to process what was said.

“I forgive you, Draco.” Draco blinked, confusion crossing his face. Not from misunderstanding why he was saying this, but from why he would. “Of course I would forgive you, Draco. You saved my life. And your apology was so  _ sincere _ ,” Harry's voice cracked and Draco raised a hand to place on the boy’s cheek as a reaction. “I forgive you. And I want to know you more.”

Harry leaned back in for a kiss, and this time it wasn’t a quick needy one like before, but a slow passionate one. A kiss that burned Draco on the inside, a kiss that had felt like Harry was trying to push and prove how much he cared for Draco. It was still so unbelievable. They pulled away and Harry was looking directly into his eyes, and Draco was looking into Harry’s emerald ones that took his breath away.

“Your eyes  _ are _ unique. They’re beautiful.” Harry whispered, and Draco felt his breath stolen once again. “ _ You’re  _ beautiful, Draco. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that it’s  _ you _ . The boy I’ve been crushing on for years was the one who wrote his feelings to me.” Harry shook his head, a look of astonishment on his face. This time, Draco was the one who leaned in for the kiss, Harry eagerly greeting him. He didn’t let this one last too long, pulling away and looking into Harry’s eyes once more.

“Are you sure about this? About all of this?” Draco asked nervously, biting his lip. He watched a mixture of emotions fly across Harry’s face before he heard a groan. Draco slowly wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck as the boy pulled Draco flush against him.

“I want it all.” Harry replied, leaning down slowly and locking their lips once more.

That was when the train horn sounded in the air in an earsplitting loudness, and the train pulled away. They didn’t break the kiss until the train could no longer be heard sliding across the tracks. “I guess you missed your ride,” Harry whispered against kiss-swollen lips once they finally parted. Draco opened his eyes, looking up into Harry’s once again.

“I don’t need that one. I’m ready for this one."


End file.
